


May Very Well Be The Death Of Me

by Oboeist3



Category: Hot Guy P.I. (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Fluff, M/M, Vampire!Schmidt, must a story have plot? can it not just vibe?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oboeist3/pseuds/Oboeist3
Summary: Look, it’s not that Nando couldn’t have figured it out. What with the skin like ash, the limited eating, the long sleeves and wide hats. Not to mention the whole ethereal beauty thing. It just...didn’t seem super polite to assume.
Relationships: Schmidt/Nando Sy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	May Very Well Be The Death Of Me

Look, it’s not that Nando couldn’t have figured it out. What with the skin like ash, the limited eating, the long sleeves and wide hats. Not to mention the whole ethereal beauty thing. It just...didn’t seem super polite to assume. The non-human rate of New York City is higher than most places, but it’s still a single digit percentage, and like any other ethnic enclave before them, magic folk keep to themselves. 

So no, he’s not expecting to walk into the office one day, go to take a sip of the appetizing red drink on Schmidt’s desk, and taste iron instead of strawberry. 

“What the fuck is that?!” he exclaims, even though he can pretty well guess. 

“Blood boba.” Schmidt replies dryly from the doorframe, as Nando leans over the kitchenette sink. Ugh the tap water is only making his mouth taste more metallic. He steals one of Schmidt’s health smoothie things from the fridge. He thinks he owes him. “From that place two blocks over. It’s a little watery, but the pearls are good.”

“Tapioca tastes good with blood?” he asks, squinting down at the label of the drink in his hands. He assumed before that it was a normal, if ridiculously expensive, variety of health drink. Now he thinks he should be careful before putting any of Schmidt’s potables into his mouth.

“It’s plasma. You know most people are pretty squeamish about asking.” he says, bringing the straw to those pretty, pretty lips. He’s staring at him too, tilting his head slightly to the side. Schmidt likes to do that sometimes, just observe him. He’s learned to get used to it. “You can drink that, by the way.”

“Oh thanks.” Nando says, cracking the lid and washing away the taste. It’s not a great flavor in this thing either, leafy and bitter, but it’s better. Fit for consumption. “Was it rude to ask? I’m not trying to be rude.”

“Not necessarily. Humans tend to have lots of questions, or don’t want to acknowledge it at all. I thought you were in the second category.” he says with a shrug. It’s a little bit weird being called a human, though it’s definite confirmation that Schmidt isn’t just a man of oddities. If anyone would drink blood just for the aesthetic, it’s him.

“Couldn’t really acknowledge it if I didn’t _know_.” he says, a tad sheepish. Schmidt stares at him like he’s grown a second head, or starting matching his socks with his outfit.

“You signed a magical business contract with a monster without even being aware of it.”

“Hey, don’t call yourself a monster. That’s not cool.” he says, defensive that someone’s being mean to Schmidt. Even if it is Schmidt. Only Nando gets to make fun of him, and that’s all in jest. Then he catches up with the rest of that statement. “Magical contract. What’s that for?”

“I’m using the pejorative for effect.” he says, with a roll of his eyes, although there’s a twinkle of fondness that Nando just manages to catch. People think Schmidt’s totally neutral, but there’s other emotions there if you look. 

“The contract is for legal stuff. Passing your half ownership through your kin, since you’ll probably die first.” Of all the things that Nando was not expecting today, contemplation of his own mortality is pretty high up there. He’s doing his best not to dwell on it.

“It’s mostly so we can take magical clients. You at least know that Deena’s a siren, right. It’s all over her YouTube.” he says, giving him such a judging look that Nando can’t help but squirm. 

“No comment.” 

“I’m not a reporter.”

“I plead the 5th?”

“We’re not in court.”

“And yet I’m still getting interrogated.” he volleys back, which earns him an actual smile. “So...should there be some websites or something I look at, now that I do know?” Nadia had sent him a lot of links when she came out as pansexual, though in the end it seems to boil down to complaining how all the members of BTS and Blackpink are attractive. Nando didn’t know how to bring up that he also likes men without making it weird. Besides, he doesn’t generally go for the pretty, dolled up types. 

Well, with one major exception. 

“It’s different for everyone. Just ask me, I don’t mind.” Schmidt says, finishes the last of his blood boba. He tries to toss the cup into the trash can from the doorway, but misses by over a foot. Nando scoops it up and actually throws it away, along with his half-empty health drink thing. 

Being a supernatural entity has little to no bearing on hand-eye coordination, apparently. 

* * *

The next few weeks for Nando are a staggered course in vampire cans and cant’s. Most of the crazier things: mirrors not working, psychic powers, being repelled by holy symbols, are of Hollywood invention. His eating habits don’t have a hint of scandal in them. He buys blood and blood by-products from well-regulated, fairly high-end stores. Solid food on occasion, for variety and flavor, but he personally finds lots of textures disagreeable. 

When it comes to weaknesses, Schmidt points out many of the methods meant to kill vampires are just inherently deadly, though the garlic is an interesting one. 

“For a long time it was a joke. A rumor that humans had twisted around into fact.” he says, laying on the couch with his head in Nando’s lap. He had been sitting next to him, but taken up residence as soon as Watson hopped off. The dog didn’t seem to mind, gnawing on one of his rope toys. Nando certainly wasn’t objecting. 

“Then a few scientists looked into it, realized that the anticoagulant properties of certain garlic compounds could be harmful in the the right quantities.” Schmidt’s solving a Rubik’s cube as he talks, not competitively fast, but enough that the clicking sound is pleasantly consistent. He likes to do them in a certain color order, even if that makes solving the puzzle harder. Smart and pedantic at the same time. 

“But it’s sort of like how there’s cyanogenic compounds in apples and peaches and apricots. You’d have to eat an unreasonable amount in a short period of time to have any effect, and it still probably wouldn’t kill you.”

“I’m going to assume that cyanogenic means something bad.” Nando says, having mostly followed the thread of conversation, even though he’s extremely tempted to ruffle up Schmidt’s perfect hair, since it’s _right there_. But then he might leave. 

“They’re compounds that have parts that become cyanide when broken down.” he explains, which doesn’t sound great. 

“Does that mean that apple cider is sparkling almost-cyanide?” he says, delivering the pun with sincerity. Schmidt glares up at him and pokes him in the stomach. 

“No. They’re in the seeds. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure out you were a dad.”

“It was three days. And I told you.” Also the guy threatening to kill him, but he tries not to think about that too much. 

“Details.” he says, stopping his Rubik’s cube solving long enough to wave a dismissive hand. 

“Speaking of family...” he says gently, because he’s not been sure how to bring up that whole can of worms up. It’s a delicate thing even without the possibility that they died a couple hundred years ago. But the mood’s light, so he can probably play it off now if Schmidt doesn’t want to talk about it. 

“What, mine? They’re not that interesting. Dad’s an executive, Mom’s an accountant, older sister just finished med school. That’s how I knew about the garlic, she texted me the study. Though the methodology was a bit clunky for my tastes.”

“I guess I was expecting something a little more dramatic.” he says, not entirely jokingly. He’s happy enough to be wrong, and Schmidt being the baby brother makes an awful lot of sense with his disposition. 

“What, you thought I was a turned vampire? That’s been criminalized since the 1500s at least. Not that it doesn’t still happen, but most vampires are born. It’s simpler.”

Nando’s not sure he’d call anything surrounding the creation and raising of children simple, but he’ll admit that it probably involves less magic. So far, at least.

* * *

Finding out that your business partner/awkward crush is not human a bit later than maybe you ought to have is one thing. Finding out that you yourself are not entirely human after 31 _years_ is another. The circumstances around how Nando does makes it even worse.

They’re on a case, tracking down a missing familiar. A missing shape-shifting familiar. In New York City. Could be any bird, rat, stray dog or bodega cat. He tends more towards cats, according to the witch who hired them. She had green eyes and blonde ringlets of hair, four piercings along her ears. She seemed simultaneously cutesy and extremely powerful. Even Schmidt, who is intentionally casual with clients, called her ma’am and even at one point, lady. 

Oh yea, she’s also a seer. Not only is she confident they’ll locate her familiar, she’s certain Nando will be the key. Which is why he’s currently taking point as they wander Tribeca, pointing a piece of enchanted lapis lazuli at every animal. They probably look like complete weirdos, but it’s New York, so nobody spares more than a quick glance. 

“Couldn’t have been more specific about how I’m the key, could she?” he asks, curling his fingers around the stone. It’s supposed to hum loudly when they get close to the familiar, but there’s already a low buzz he felt since it was put in his hand. Surely that’s Schmidt’s influence, being able to transform into a bat is a type of narrowly defined shapeshifting. He hasn’t actually done it around Nando yet, because he’d have to strip out of all his clothes so they don’t fall to the floor and wrinkle. Nando narrowly kept himself from saying how very little he would mind that. 

“Ms. Tierney is among the most precise in her field. But there always needs to be some room for interpretation. Randomness and Fate are messy lovers.” he says, which is a very poetic way of saying there’s no way to know anything for certain. 

“Wish they didn’t have to fight while we’re still in the room.” he says, much less artfully, but Schmidt laughs, so he’ll take it.

It’s four blocks and double-digit negatives that the gem actually reacts to something, a sleepy, lean cat resting in the window of a bar setting up shop. Schmidt taps on the other window to get the keep’s attention. Opening the door reveals that he’s grizzled, towering tall, with fangs sticking out over his bottom lip. ‘The Bloody Mary’ on the sign makes it seem obvious in retrospect.

“Blood brother. I’m Schmidt, and this is Nando.”

“Tom.” he says, a gruff baritone. “Need something?”

“Just to check if that cat is the familiar we’re looking for.” Tom grunts assent, steps away from the door enough to let them through. Well, to let Schmidt though, because as soon as Nando tries to cross the threshold, he shot from head to toe with white-hot electric pain, enough for him to scream and crumble to the ground, still twitching. 

“What the fuck was that?!” Schmidt yells, which can’t be right. Schmidt doesn’t swear, even when he hurts himself. He trained himself into family friendly alternatives like ‘drat’ and ‘shiitake mushrooms.’ 

“Been a couple of weres tearing up the place. Got a ward to keep them out. Cheaper than a bouncer.” Tom says, without a lick of remorse or sympathy for Nando’s predicament. 

“That’s illegal, and more importantly immoral. Take it down and apologize to my friend right now.” he demands, leaning into the other man’s space, issuing a challenge. Tom doesn’t back down. 

“What are you going to do about it, pretty boy?” he snarls. Schmidt’s own fangs shoot out and he lunges. He doesn’t fight well, there’s no technique or skill to him, but he’s lean and healthy and has surprise on his side, so he gets Tom on the floor quickly, nails pressed against his throat. 

“I said take. it. down.” he hisses, and with a few muttered words the worst of Nando’s pain leaves him, though there’s still an odd buzzing in his ears. He stumbles to his feet, leaning against the doorway, and Schmidt rushes over to put an arm around his shoulder, support him better. The cat they came here for, surprisingly, gets down from its perch, purrs and rubs against Nando’s legs, then turns into a dove and flies in the direction of their client. 

“I think that was the familiar.” Nando croaks, and Schmidt’s expression goes softer, his fangs retreat. Almost a shame, he looks kinda cute with them out, too. 

“Let’s go back to the office.” he says, glares murderously at the vampire barkeep. “The council will hear about this.” he promises, and leads them out the door. 

He stops having his arm around Nando’s shoulder after a block, but he keeps a hold of one of his hands, just in case. Even that little contact is enough for a much more pleasant electricity to zing across his nerves. Schmidt doesn’t even let go when he has to stop by a bodega to grab something, and the young lady behind the counter smiles at them like they’re an adorable couple. 

When they get back to the office, he actually sees what it is, a were test.

“What’s a were test?” he asks, as Schmidt has broken the cardboard box open and is reading the instructions. 

“It’s a test to see if you’ve been bitten by a were-creature recently. If that’s the case I know some support groups you can join. But it’s probably a generational thing. Three, four generations back. Just enough to trigger a ward.”

“Uh, are you sure the ward couldn’t have just mal - ow! - functioned?” he says, interrupted midway by the prick of a needle against his arm, a single drop of blood put on a little plastic strip. It looks kind of like a pregnancy test, actually.

“Wards don’t work like that. This one may have been extremely broad in the parameters, but it won’t break them entirely. You are not entirely human. But fortunately, you won’t have to deal with a cycle any time soon.” he says, handing him the negative result. 

“Oh. I guess that’s...good?” he says, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Schmidt notices, sits next to his side and puts his head on his shoulder. 

“Nothing’s really changed. You’re still Romeo Fernando Sy, detective, father, tamer of knife dogs. Now you just get to be something else, on top of it.”

“At least I’ll have good company.” Nando says, and Schmidt smiles, presses a kiss against his cheek. Sweet and faint and still disarming in it’s simple tenderness.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> to the people who came to my ao3 expecting arty stuff b/c of 10 C's: i'm sorry


End file.
